Drunk On The Night Breeze - Chapter 24

Chapter 24

It was already late when Ruan Lingfeng left. After listening to Tao Zhi sing all night, eating noodles and cake, blowing out candles, and chatting in the bistro for a while, time had quietly slipped into the next day.

Once home, Ruan Lingfeng tidied up briefly and sat down at his computer. He opened a document and began tapping on the keyboard—not very fast, pausing to think for a while before typing a line or two.

Working late into the night on proposals was routine for Ruan Lingfeng, but this time, it wasn’t for work at all.

By the time he finished a full page on the screen and checked his phone, he found two messages from Tao Zhi.

Tao Zhi: Are you home? Tao Zhi: Were you happy today?

Ruan Lingfeng was quite surprised. If someone else had said this, he wouldn’t have found it odd; after all, sharing pleasant feelings after hanging out is basic social etiquette. But Tao Zhi wasn’t that type of person.

Tao Zhi didn’t like empty pleasantries. Whatever he did or said was usually because he felt like it.

While pondering Tao Zhi’s motivation, Ruan Lingfeng replied: I’m happy, thank you.

The other side replied quickly with a voice message. It wasn’t Ruan Lingfeng’s imagination—there seemed to be a hint of a small complaint in Tao Zhi’s tone.

Tao Zhi said: “Then why didn’t you post on your Moments?”

Ruan Lingfeng: ?

Tao Zhi continued: “Usually you post every damn thing on Moments—you see a fat cat on the side of the road, you post; you go out to eat with someone, you post. But when you go out with me…” Tao Zhi stopped there.

Tao Zhi: “Fuck, I meant to cancel the recording, how did it send?”

Tao Zhi retracted the two voice messages.

Unfortunately, before they were retracted, Ruan Lingfeng had already converted them to text and read them. Retracting them halfway through didn’t stop him from hearing what Tao Zhi had said.

He really is a kid, actually caring about something like this, Ruan Lingfeng thought with a smile in his voice. He replied: “My dear, have you forgotten that you’re a relatively famous singer? Would it be appropriate for me to post a status about hanging out with you?”

Tao Zhi didn’t reply.

Ruan Lingfeng thought for a moment and explained further: “Actually, I could post… I took a picture of the cake. But I didn’t tell anyone it was my birthday.”

Although, as Tao Zhi said, Ruan Lingfeng loved sharing his life on Moments, it was more of a way to manage his persona—posting a photo of a gathering to show he valued the other person, or sharing something interesting to let others think he loved life and was easy to get along with. In reality, he didn’t have a strong desire to share; he actually preferred to keep things that were truly relevant to him private.

Tao Zhi stopped sending voice messages and typed a line instead. It was hard to tell if he was happy or not.

Tao Zhi: You only told me?

The wording felt a bit strange. Ruan Lingfeng was about to say that wasn’t exactly the case when another message popped up.

Tao Zhi: Also, I have a name. Don’t call me that bullshit “dear.”

Um…?

Ruan Lingfeng didn’t understand what Tao Zhi meant for a moment, but he didn’t dwell on it. He exited the chat, made a few more edits to the text he had typed on the computer, exported it as a long image, sent it to his phone, and posted a Moment.

The caption read: Heard a very special live show today~

The long image contained his evaluation of every song besides the birthday song. His review was quite objective. He first raised some minor suggestions that weren’t really criticisms—for example, saying the pronunciation was a bit off during a Cantonese song, which was a bit distracting—but the majority of it was praise. He said the singer had excellent fundamentals, a very stable live performance, and could handle different styles, giving the audience a diverse and colorful experience. He even said that even for songs that required life experience to truly convey emotion, this singer gave them a different, unique flavor.

At the end of this long music review, Ruan Lingfeng wrote: It’s a pity I didn’t get to hear his original work, but there should be many opportunities in the future. I look forward to seeing him shine on an even larger stage ^_^

There were plenty of night owls. Soon, people began commenting:

• Brother Feng is out listening to live music again, but it’s the first time I’ve seen such a long review!

• This setlist is pretty weird, what kind of live show was this?

• Our platform is planning a new talent show, Teacher Ruan can recommend this person.

• You said so much, but you forgot to mention the singer’s name…

Ruan Lingfeng smiled. He had left the name out on purpose.

How could he let others know?

Tao Zhi saw the post and left a “noble” like (he rarely liked other people’s posts). He didn’t comment but continued the conversation in their private chat.

Tao Zhi: . Ruan Lingfeng: Hmm? You saw my Moment? I was going to send it to you privately, but since you asked why I didn’t post, I just put it out there. Ruan Lingfeng: Don’t worry, I didn’t reveal any of your info. Tao Zhi: Thanks. Ruan Lingfeng: Being so polite? Besides, I should be the one thanking you. I haven’t said it yet—thank you for celebrating my birthday with me. Tao Zhi: I’m not thanking you for not revealing my info. Tao Zhi: Can you stop saying this cringey stuff…

The last sentence was likely directed at “thank you for celebrating my birthday,” but while Tao Zhi told him not to be cringey, he followed up with:

Tao Zhi: I meant to say, I think you listened to me sing very seriously, and that makes me pretty happy. Thanks.

He didn’t give Ruan Lingfeng a chance to reply.

Tao Zhi: Sleeping. Don’t reply.

Actually, when Tao Zhi wrote lyrics, they weren’t very “stream of consciousness”; he could usually express his main idea clearly. But right now, his speech was a bit disjointed and vague.

But Ruan Lingfeng understood.

He was happy too. He was truly grateful for what Tao Zhi had done for him tonight and felt he should give proper feedback. This wasn’t a social performance; it was a sincere response to a kind gesture.

Tao Zhi said he was sleeping, but he wasn’t. He opened Ruan Lingfeng’s Moments again, saved the long image, and read it one more time.

The opening remarks Tao Zhi made on the small stage weren’t just polite small talk. He rarely found himself in a position where he needed to prepare a surprise for someone, and choosing to hold a simple live show was because he knew Ruan Lingfeng happened to like music.

But he had been conflicted. Singing was the easiest thing in the world for him. What if Ruan Lingfeng thought he was being perfunctory?

Thinking this, another voice in his head would say: Usually, people offer me high prices for commercial performances and I don’t necessarily go. I’m singing a private live show for him; he can take it or leave it.

Despite this, logically he knew that second thought was just bravado. Deep down, he really hoped the other person would like the gift.

Actually, when he was singing on stage and saw Ruan Lingfeng swaying to the melody and applauding, he felt that was good enough. After all, Ruan Lingfeng was the protagonist tonight; as long as he was happy, it was fine.

He hadn’t expected that afterward, Ruan Lingfeng would write such a long “repo” (report/review) for him… This made Tao Zhi feel that his performance tonight had been treated with great sincerity.

Nobody dislikes receiving feedback.

And he even posted it on Moments.

It didn’t mention him by name, yet it stirred even stranger emotions in him. Many people were watching, but no one knew what Ruan Lingfeng was truly saying. It was like a code that others couldn’t crack, a secret known only to the two of them.

Even though Tao Zhi said not to reply, Ruan Lingfeng sent a message anyway.

Ruan Lingfeng: Goodnight, see you tomorrow.

Tao Zhi tossed and turned in bed, then turned back, finally deciding to correct Ruan Lingfeng’s mistake.

Tao Zhi: It’s already past midnight. It’s not “tomorrow” anymore. Tao Zhi: See you today.